


No Accounting For Taste

by Semjaza



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Affection-Starved Nero, Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fear of Abandonment, Getting Together, Implied Past Abuse, Insecurity, M/M, Post-Devil May Cry 4, Praise Kink, Scars, Slight Slick/Demonic Biology, Soft Danero, Submissive Nero - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semjaza/pseuds/Semjaza
Summary: In which Nero criticizes Dante’s music collection, among other things.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 171





	No Accounting For Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing is definitely incestuous, but most of this fic was written in 2015 when there was little consensus as to how closely related Dante and Nero were, so it’s not addressed or mentioned. Interpret how you want, I don’t care, there’s too much going on in this fic already, lol. Also, there’s swearing, a brief mention of past Nero/Kyrie and past Nero/other men, and a short discussion of Fortuna-specific sexism/homophobia/puritanism. I love overconfident dumbass Nero but he’s not here much in this fic, this is definitely ‘traumatized by Fortuna’ Nero. 
> 
> Thank you to Apollo for reading this over for me!

“Ride the Lightning? Really?” Dante’s incredulous tone filled the office, managing to drown out both the music blaring from the jukebox in the corner and the rain thundering against the windows. He slammed the doors behind him, shedding his dripping trench coat and soaked-through boots and socks as he went.

“You wanna fight about it? C’mon, what would you have picked?”

“Master of Puppets. Easy.”

Nero sighed, managing to look both disgusted and pitying at the same time. “Sometimes I wonder about you, old man.” He reached for the glass of water beside him, then returned to his previous position on the sofa, an easy full lotus. Nero wore his day-off uniform of loose blue sweatpants and a ratty black t-shirt with a fading _Sepultura_ logo. Dante could just see the edges of the bandages that crisscrossed his lean frame.

“Your concern about which Metallica album is my favourite is troubling, kid. Here’s an idea: no one cares.” The argument was a longstanding one, despite the fact that they weren’t particularly enthralled with the music. It continued, simply because neither was willing to let it go, for this band, or any other.

“You started it,” Nero protested, “walking in here like you own the place-”

“I do,” Dante interjected.

“And getting all judgmental about what record is playing-”

Without looking, Dante could envision the gestures that accompanied the words. He was glad Nero couldn’t see him smirking.

“And if you finish that with, ‘I thought you were cool,’ I will happily kick the shit out of you,” Dante interrupted again, reaching the far wall of the shop. He turned to see that Nero hadn’t taken the bait (although the fact that he wasn’t choking on his own teeth was his first clue) and began removing his weapons with more care than he’d shown his coat. Agni and Rudra grumbled anyway, the twin scimitars as miserable as he was after a day in the rain. He shook the excess water from them and hung them on the wall.

Across the room, Nero snorted a laugh. He gracefully unfolded himself from the couch and padded, barefoot, over to where Dante stood. Surveying the DevilArms with a critical eye, he rubbed a smear of blood from Rudra’s edge. The scimitar hissed at his touch, shivering almost imperceptibly.

“You got them all?” he asked.

“Every last one.”

The job of the day was the complete and utter extermination of a huge nest of Blitzes, a mission that had started yesterday and been cut short when Nero wound up under the pack’s leader. Stunned by a flash of lightning and then cut to ribbons by vicious claws, Dante had just barely managed to pull Nero free before he’d bled out. As it was, Nero displayed a capacity for healing that almost matched Dante’s own remarkable constitution. Almost, in the sense that he hadn’t actually died yesterday, no matter how many times his ribs had pierced his lungs.

“Sorry I missed it. I owed those fuckers an ass-kicking.”

“Feeling better, then?”

In response, Nero stretched expressively, bone and muscle sliding under his skin. He winced, but only a little. His wounds weren’t entirely healed, but at least he wasn’t doubled over and shaking in pain. Yesterday, Dante had been able to count his ribs easily, given that they’d been exposed to the air. The memory made him nauseous.

“Yeah,” Nero muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck, suddenly awkward under Dante’s scrutiny. “Even the deepest scratch was pretty much closed by midafternoon, and then I was just sitting around waiting for the scars to set. Boring as hell. I’ve been working my way through your record collection. It’s like having a time machine.”

“Asshole.” Dante punched his shoulder gently. “You just don’t know what’s good.”

***

Life with Nero wasn’t quite the absolute hell that Dante had expected it to be. It was like living with a younger version of himself, only one with a more abrasive personality, shorter temper, and less than half the sense of humour. Lady and Trish found it completely fucking hilarious, but then again, they shared a condo that was safely across town. While both women had sympathized when Nero had shown up in Capulet City, needing a place to stay, they’d also been very quick to point out how much better it would be for Nero to live with Dante and not them.

After the first month, during which Dante had often considered taking Nero for a long drive and dumping him at least four counties away, they’d gotten used to each other. Nero eventually figured out that being teased was not the same as being berated, and while he still sometimes reacted with extreme violence, he handled Dante’s perpetual harassment much better. He was nowhere near as defensive as he had been, and while Dante was happy about that, he now found himself the constant victim of Nero’s unlimited supply of snark.

Still, there were perks to having Nero around. He could hold his own (recent accidents excepted) in almost any battle, he helped pay the bills without a word of complaint, and he always sided with Dante whenever Lady came by, looking for cash. While Dante had a feeling that Lady and Nero were best buds when he wasn’t present, the kid didn’t take any shit from her, whether her ire was directed at him personally or not. Having backup in that fight was a brand-new experience for Dante, and he found himself thankful for it.

It also didn’t hurt that Nero was both gorgeous and affection-starved. He’d been enough of a pariah in staid, proper Fortuna that when Dante finally asked him to his bed (bluntly, because weeks of subtle flirtation had only gotten him puzzled looks), his reaction had been more surprised and confused than angry. This was another thing Dante was grateful for, because a pissed off Nero was an entire world of trouble. Granted, Nero was enraged much of the time anyway, at the slightest provocation, but at least _some_ of the time it wasn’t directed at him. And it wasn’t as though Dante had demanded anything. He’d simply asked if Nero wanted to sleep with him, and Nero had blushed an utterly charming shade of scarlet, blurted “Huh?” and fled the room. 

It’d been confusing for Dante as well, before he’d figured out what was wrong. He didn’t want to make assumptions about Nero, but the younger hunter stuck closer to him than his shadow during the day, and hey, maybe he’d want to be that close at night too? Nero almost never left him alone, following him from job to office to bar and back again. His behaviour was… odd, but then Dante’s entire life was odd and adding Nero into it hadn’t changed that. Asking Nero to bed hadn’t changed anything between them, either, and it wasn’t like he was going to ever press the issue. Nero hadn’t refused him outright, but it did seem that he’d never even considered the possibility that Dante would want him, and that had made Dante back off even faster. He still felt a bit remorseful about it though, like he’d been planning to take advantage of an innocent. And asking Nero about _that_ had only earned him a broken jaw. In the end, Dante had decided to wait and see.

Three months in, he thought he had a pretty good handle on living with Nero, which was to say that he hadn’t been seriously maimed by him. They found a routine that worked for them, and settled into it. Nero was almost always by his side, from morning to night. They hunted as a team, prowling the city and surrounding rural areas in search of demons. While Dante had formerly waited in his office for jobs to come to him, Nero insisted on bringing the fight with them. He’d set up a range of patrols throughout the various districts of the city, tapping into demon-hunting mercenary networks that Dante hadn’t used since his teen years. He hacked into Capulet City’s demonic population with a merciless, military efficiency, and had managed to impress even Lady with his ruthlessness.

Dante was glad to have Nero with him. He hoped the kid would stay.

***

“Houses of the Holy…” Nero had traded water for beer and was sprawled on the couch beside Dante. An assortment of album covers littered the floor and coffee table in front of them. “And IV. At least you got the best ones.”

“Are you _still_ criticizing my music collection?” Dante leaned back into the cushions, propped his feet on the coffee table and slung an arm across the back of the sofa. He popped the tab on his beer can one-handed and took a sip. The office was dark, lit only by the few candles Dante had managed to scrounge up and the dim glow of Nero’s demonic arm. The power had been off for the past hour; the city’s aging transistors were no match for the raging wind and rainstorm. Dante figured it was an effect of removing so many Blitzes from the atmosphere at once.

“Just reviewing it.” Nero squinted at some small print, holding it nearly against his nose to read. Unlike Dante, whose night vision encompassed a full spectrum, giving him excellent clarity no matter how dark, Nero’s was only good for focusing on demonic auras. “How many Bat For Lashes albums is it possible for one person to own? And why do you have them sorted with all this Meshuggah?”

Dante rolled his eyes, leaning back on the sofa. “Was it your religious upbringing that made you this judgmental?”

Nero snorted. “Hey, I like your music, dumbass. Or, some of it. And really, of everyone from Fortuna, I like to think that I’m the most open-minded.” He glanced at his devil bringer and frowned slightly.

“Yeah, I believe that,” Dante drawled, hoping his tone was light. While he wouldn’t argue that Nero was definitely a punk, he didn’t deserve his outcast status. In fact, Nero was often so grateful for any scrap of affection tossed his way that Dante seriously contemplated heading back to Fortuna and burning the town to the ground.

Nero punched him and grinned, knuckles cracking against Dante’s shoulder. “You’d better.” He took a gulp of his drink, suddenly embarrassed, and climbed to his feet. “You want another beer?”

Lightning lit up the office just then, hollowing Nero’s cheeks and shadowing his eyes, and for a moment Dante thought he was looking at a skull. The illusion lasted less than a second, and he shook his head to clear it. The crack of thunder that followed was so loud that they both flinched; Nero because a Blitz had nearly killed him yesterday, and Dante, because he’d seen it happen, too far away to prevent it.

“Yeah… Get a couple.” He watched Nero return a minute later, and almost caught a beer can projectile in the face when he stared just a little too long. Dante couldn’t help it. Nero was beautiful.

“Taking a picture?” Nero yawned and stretched, beer in hand, grimacing only a little as the remnants of scar tissue pulled with the movement.

“You wish. Still hurting?” Dante asked.

Nero waved him away, blatantly uncomfortable with Dante’s concern. “I’m fine. I’ve been healed since this afternoon. Don’t go all Mother Goose on me.”

“Can’t help it. Who’s gonna defend me from Lady if you’re not around?”

“I’m sure she’ll take pity on your sad ass if you throw enough money at her.” Nero ambled back to the couch and settled beside Dante, close but not touching. He lifted his shirt and scratched at his bandages, unraveling a few. Most of the gashes from yesterday’s attack had faded to thin white scars, but the deepest ones were still an angry red. Unlike Dante, Nero scarred every time he took a hit. Not deeply, and never visibly to human eyes, but always just enough for Dante to notice. He could see all the evidence, writ large on Nero’s skin, of every time Nero had missed a parry or failed to dodge or just hadn’t cared enough to avoid a strike. Nero absently tugged a couple more of the bandages free, and Dante winced before he could stop himself.

“What’s wrong?” Nero frowned at him, adjusting the couch cushions and rustling around until he was content, snugged in closer to Dante’s side.

“Nothing.”

It had been far more distressing than he was willing to admit, seeing Nero sprawled unconscious under a Blitz six times his size. The blind demon had raked razor sharp talons across Nero’s ribs, opening his chest up like a flower unfolding, ripping and tearing on its way to his heart. Dante had been a hundred feet away, battling four other monsters, half stunned by the lightning attack that had taken down Nero. The twenty seconds it had taken to reach him had crawled past, with Dante stuck in what seemed like horrifying slow motion. He’d been sure that Nero was dead, numbly certain of it, and a cold rage had iced his veins, ripping his trigger through his flesh. The lightning demon never knew what hit it.

“No really, you’re acting weird… weirder. Heading towards cranky.” Nero sipped his drink, eyeing him bemusedly.

“Which is more your thing, you mean?”

“Fuck off, Dante, you know what I’m talking about.”

They sat in silence a moment, listening to the rain. Lightning lit the room again, and Dante couldn’t take it anymore. He rarely criticized Nero’s choices, because Nero always interpreted it worse than he’d meant it, or thought that Dante was trying to hurt him deliberately. He tried not to show anger around Nero, because Nero would either respond with excessive rage, or worse, would go as still and silent as a beaten child. Either response left Dante wondering what the hell Fortuna had done to Nero. But rushing the pack of Blitzes had been stupidly dangerous, and the self-destructiveness of Nero’s actions pissed him off completely.

“You could’ve died-” he bit off the words before his voice could rise in volume.

“Called it with Mother Goose, didn’t I?” Nero muttered sullenly.

“No, I mean it Nero, I was sure you were dead. You sure as hell looked dead.”

“Oh c’mon, I’ve survived worse. Really, the only reason I figured out I could trigger was because Agnus stabbed me through the heart.” Nero mentioned his near-death by torture as though it was nothing. He set his beer aside and looked as though he was about to bail out of the conversation. Dante grabbed his shoulder and held him in place.

“And I’ve never been happier about shooting him, but that still doesn’t mean you can rush a pack of Blitzes and expect to get out unscathed. Just because that stupid town treated you like you were disposable-”

Nero shrugged out of Dante’s grip. “Or how about, I fight the way I want, and you shut the fuck up about it. I’ve taken worse hits. And I didn’t have backup to pull me out of them, either. So, I think I’m doing just fine.”

Dante silently counted to ten, refraining from crushing the beer in his hand with remarkable restraint. He doubted Nero had ever been hurt worse than he had yesterday, but saying so would start an entirely different argument. Nero was scowling at him, but he hadn’t left the room, and Dante considered that a small victory.

“I know you can fight, kid. That’s not the issue here. You think I liked carrying you all the way back here, hoping you’d heal before you bled out?” Dante paused until he was sure he could keep the rage from his voice. Nero was still watching him, but his expression had softened. He still looked slightly incredulous at Dante’s concern, but a lot of his hostility had faded.

Nero lifted his shirt and tugged away the rest of his bandages, tossing them aside. “Look, you worry too much, old man. I heal fast. Pretty much good as new in less than twenty-four hours.” He patted his ribs, lightly because they weren’t _that_ healed; even if the skin had closed over, the bone fractures were still setting. Scars streaked like lightning across his chest.

Dante reached out to trace the wounds without thinking, the movement almost involuntary. Nero froze. He blushed scarlet, which was expected, but didn’t pull away. After a moment’s pause, where Dante was sure Nero would just continue holding his breath until he passed out, Nero seemed to get his thoughts together.

“Why’d you back off, a couple months ago?” Nero rubbed at his nose, shifting uncomfortably, and Dante wondered what it had cost him to ask that question. While he’d never seen Nero back down from a fight, he could tell when Nero was avoiding a topic that made him uneasy. Nero was brave to the point of stupidity when it came to combat, and Dante still hadn’t figured out whether it was selflessness or a self-destructive streak that drove him on. Throw an army of hell-spawn at Nero and he’d bathe in their blood, but tell Nero he’d done a good job, or that he’d deserved better than the scraps Fortuna had tossed him, and Nero wouldn’t meet his eyes for the rest of the day.

“What do you mean?” Dante stalled for time, just to be sure. Nero’s taut belly was warm under his hand, but he didn’t want to press his luck. Nero wasn’t ticklish, but he didn’t like to be touched, and usually expressed this dislike with flawlessly-executed violence. Dante’s nose wasn’t broken yet, so he watched Nero carefully, ready to dodge if a fist came at his face. He let his palm settle over new scar tissue, hoping that, if nothing else, the warmth would soothe any remaining pain. Despite what Nero might think, wounds that deep took time to heal. With the weather, they had to be aching.

Nero looked as though he wanted to dissolve into the couch and disappear, rather than continue the conversation. He grabbed his beer and finished it in a few gulps, ignoring Dante’s touch. “You used to hit on me, all the time. You even got pretty blunt about it. And then it was like you just, I dunno… moved on.”

Dante shrugged. “You didn’t seem that interested, even once you figured out what I was asking. So, I backed off. Seemed like the mature choice.” He tried to coax a smile from Nero, or even an eye-roll, but Nero wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Heh.” Nero frowned, picking idly at the tab of his beer can. “I thought you were just making fun of me.” He kept his eyes off Dante, the tiniest hint of a blush reddening his cheeks again.

“I’d like to think you know me better than that,” Dante said quietly. “Even I have limits.”

Nero’s glance was dubious, and Dante couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice. “Damnit Nero, not everyone is trying to harm you. Do you honestly think I’m that much of an asshole?”

Nero shook his head, as though he wasn’t entirely convinced. Lightning flickered over the room again, and Nero looked so young and vulnerable for a second that Dante lost his train of thought and just stared at him. He didn’t realize he had a hold of Nero’s wrist until the devilbringer flickered in his hand. Under his other palm, he could feel Nero exhale shakily.

“You gonna let go?” Nero murmured, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn’t as though he’d be unable to break Dante’s grip, if he wanted. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t throw Dante across the room. He just sat there, watching Dante, letting the other man get closer. Dante wondered if he’d be allowed to touch Nero’s hair, or his face, or if Nero would simply gut him once he crossed the line. Wherever the hell that was.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” He asked again, bluntly. He saw a myriad of emotions flicker over Nero’s face, pleased to see the blatant yearning there but troubled by how fearful he looked. Dante waited, watching as Nero tried and failed to say yes. He ran his thumb gently over Nero’s scaled palm. Nero choked, blushing crimson. He sputtered something incomprehensible.

Dante tried again. “It’s a yes or no question.” He paused. “This is why I backed off last time.”

“Well, when you ask so charmingly, how could I possibly refuse?” Nero managed to regain his composure, armed with a healthy dose of sarcasm. He broke Dante’s grip on his wrist and claimed the last beer from the coffee-table.

“So… that’s a yes, then?”

Nero glared. “You’re such a creep.”

“And yet, you’re still here. Almost like you want to be.”

Nero rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, jackass.” He paused, tension flowing off him in waves. He looked like he wanted to talk though, or at least as much as Nero ever wanted to.

“Well, do you?” Dante prompted.

Nero frowned, torn between thoughtfulness and hostility. He took a gulp of beer, then wiped his mouth. “You’re making assumptions.”

“I’m asking questions, based off the evidence I’m seeing.”

“You’re _assuming_ I’m queer, or at least somewhat interested in you, specifically, and that I’d fuck a roommate who is also kind of my employer, and…” Nero trailed off.

“I also _assumed_ that you were a virgin,” Dante prompted, figuring he was gonna get punched anyway.

Nero coughed, managing to get his breath back with heroic effort. “Uh, no.” Nero spread his arms, gesturing at himself. “You met my ex.”

“She seemed pretty uptight, but go on.”

“Fortuna is pretty uptight, Dante. People think it’s shameful for a woman to have sex outside of marriage. You gotta be discreet or you’ll make her life a living hell.”

“I feel like, of the two of you, it was your life they were making hellish.”

“Well, that wasn’t because they knew about me and Kyrie.” Nero blurted, looking almost horrified that he was still talking.

“So, sex between dudes must be right out.”

Nero hesitated. “Not exactly. But it’s still kind of messed up and puritanical. Guys get harassed if people think they’re too feminine, or easy, or for whatever other bullshit reason. So, it’s not really a nice thing to do to your friends, if you’re not married.”

“Fortuna has gay marriage?” Dante asked, dubiously.

“In its own fucked-up, provincial way, yeah. It does.” 

“I’m learning all kinds of weird shit today. Huh.” Dante thought about it for a moment more, watching Nero. He didn’t ask Nero if he’d gotten in trouble for fucking the wrong guy, or for getting fucked by the wrong guy, or just for simply not getting married when he should have. The effort it took to keep his mouth shut nearly killed him, and it showed.

“Yeah, well, don’t hurt your brain too much thinking about it.”

Dante laughed at that, figuring he’d pressed his luck enough for one evening. He stood up and stretched. “Fine, then. I’m going to bed. Put the candles out before you sleep if you’re done feeling romantic.” He stepped back to dodge Nero’s half-hearted swing. “What, no kiss goodnight?” He teased gently, waiting for Nero to erupt into violence.

“Why would I do that?” he demanded.

Dante shrugged. “To try to resolve some of this sexual tension?” he suggested.

“That you’re feeling?” Nero’s disgust was apparent.

“That _we_ are feeling, Nero.”

“Speak for yourself, fucker. God, you make me so uncomfortable.” Nero exerted a slight flare of demonic power and managed to snuff out every candle in the room. The air filled with the scent of smoke, filtering through the drafty office. Rain battered against the windows, hissing down into the gutters. It was a wonder the roof was holding out against the weather.

Dante took a few more steps toward the stairs, keeping his eyes on Nero. “That’s probably just your wounds acting up. But either way, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Nero growled. “And you’re a sadist, apparently.”

“Nonsense. I just want everyone to have a good time, and not, you know, get ripped up by demons. Life goals, kid. They’re important.”

He was at the top of the stairs before Nero moved again, probably heading to lock the shop’s main doors. Dante left him to it. He sauntered slowly into his room and started getting ready for bed. He’d traded his leather fighting gear for jeans and a t-shirt earlier that evening, and now shrugged them off before pulling back the sheets. And then he paused, listening, and decided to leave his boxers on. He could feel Nero’s presence before he heard his footsteps - barefoot, Nero could put a ninja to shame. He turned to grin at the hazy infrared outline standing in the doorway.

“So, you weren’t done talking?” He asked. “Three beers and massive blood loss and I’m learning all kinds of stuff about you. And now you’re up here… stalking me?”

“What? You wish,” Nero snapped, indignant. His devilbringer flickered with irritation, its azure glow messing with Dante’s night vision. Nero folded his arms defensively across his chest.

“But you follow me around, like some sort of violent, bitchy shadow. Name one time, since you’ve been living here, that you’ve left my side.” Dante fluffed his pillow and turned to look at Nero. He stood closer than expected, head tilted as though puzzled.

“Where else would I be?”

Dante shrugged, knowing Nero’s night vision was good enough to catch it. Thunder rolled above the city, shaking the windowpanes.

“I dunno. Anywhere you want.” Dante picked his clothes up off the floor and tossed them over a chair, more for something to do than any desire for cleanliness. Nero stood very still, and when Dante spared another glance his way, something awfully close to fear flickered over Nero’s face.

Dante hid his surprise, and added, “I’m not gonna tell you to get lost, if that’s what you’re worried about. Even if you do dumb shit like throw yourself into a pack of Blitzes.” Nero still stood as if frozen, and Dante risked taking a step towards him, closing the space between them. Nero glared up at him.

“I didn’t come up here to get lectured,” he spat.

“No? Why did you come up here, then? Last time I checked, this was my bedroom.” Dante waited, but Nero didn’t smack him. He didn’t offer any response either, so Dante continued. “Well? Are your wounds bothering you or something? There might be another vital star in the freezer if you want it.” He let his hand settle on Nero’s waist, his thumb sliding over his stomach. Nero shivered and licked his lips, turning his face away as though he could regain some composure that way. Dante watched him for a moment longer, wondering if Nero would make a move. Instead, Nero stayed still and quiet under his touch.

Taking the lack of violence as encouragement, Dante raised his other hand and gently stroked a finger along Nero’s jawline. Nero didn’t flinch, or hit him, or tell him to back off. When Nero turned his face back towards him, Dante took a chance and pressed his mouth to Nero’s. To his utter surprise and bewilderment, Nero sighed and leaned into him, opening his mouth to let Dante really kiss him. He yielded to Dante entirely, as though this was something he’d always wanted, and Dante was caught completely off guard. He brushed his lips against Nero’s, not prepared to just lean in and dominate him, even if Nero seemed receptive to that. He slipped his tongue into Nero’s mouth, and Nero made a breathy little sound that shot straight to Dante’s heart.

“You alright, Nero? Didn’t hit your head or something?” He asked, quietly. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Nero was a naturally affectionate person, just that he thought someone might have beaten those tendencies out of him. It’d had taken Nero a while to get used to having people actually be nice to him, and he was still vaguely suspicious if he wasn’t treated like garbage. Nero seemed grateful, and maybe even hopeful, in a way that just _killed_ Dante inside, but was so incredibly wary that he couldn’t really appreciate any kindness sent his way. Nero had eventually responded to Dante’s overtures of friendship by occasionally trying to feed him something healthier than pizza, and by not hitting him as hard as possible. Dante had considered it progress, and fantasized about drowning the entire Order in a toilet, one mincing bastard at a time.

Nero shook his head at Dante’s words, thinking he was being rejected, and Dante just barely caught his shoulder before he bolted. He reeled Nero in close and clasped his arms around him, heedless of how unprotected the position left his face and throat. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend his evening making out with Nero, not at all. He just needed to square away the Nero who seemed surprised when anyone took his side in a fight with the Nero who’d followed him to his room and kissed him back. Nero allowed Dante’s touch, radiating tension. His breathing was a little unsteady, and Dante could feel his heartbeat from where they pressed together, belly to belly and chest to chest.

“Stay put a minute and talk to me,” he requested, trying to avoid making it sound like a demand. “You know I have no complaints about you in my room, or my bed for that matter. But you’ve had a bad couple of days, and-”

“And I’m here ‘cause I want to be. I kissed you because I wanted to, and I thought you did too.” Nero’s cheeks burned. He glowered at Dante as though the older man was the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. Dante certainly felt like it.

“You kissed me first,” Nero continued, in a tone that clearly stated _you asshole_. “If you don’t want me, then let me go.” He took half a step back. His hands found Dante’s biceps, ready to shove him away.

“You know I do. I just…” Dante searched for a way to explain. “You surprised me, that’s all. I’m certainly not complaining.” He rubbed gentle circles on Nero’s lower back. Lightning lit up the room again as the storm rolled back in, revealing the uncertainty on Nero’s face. To reassure him, Dante pulled him closer, until they were standing flush once more. Nero wasn’t quite as tall as Dante, but it was easy to lean down and start over with a soft kiss against his mouth. After a moment, Nero relaxed against him, his hands climbing over Dante’s shoulders and then twining into his hair. The level of submission was not at all what Dante had expected from Nero, given his antagonistic personality, but he wasn’t about to complain about it. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know right now why Nero was so compliant sexually, and he filed those questions away to ask later.

“Okay then,” Dante murmured. “C’mere.” He stepped back towards the bed and brought Nero with him, keeping him close. Nero allowed Dante to pull his t-shirt off over his head, and they both startled a bit at the warmth of skin to skin contact. Dante decided then and there that he wanted Nero on his back on his bed, and wondered how best to get him there without hurting Nero’s bruised ribs. After a moment’s internal debate, he sat down on the bed, pulled Nero onto his lap, then rolled them both over. He held himself carefully over Nero, wary of how much weight he could take, given his still-healing injuries.

“It’s fine,” Nero intuited, looping his arms around Dante and tugging him closer. Dante mused on that for a moment, wondering how Nero could read him so correctly in some instances, especially in the confusion of battle, but still manage to misinterpret most small gestures of goodwill. He let Nero take a bit more of his weight and nuzzled into his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses over the pale skin. Nero made a sound that was almost a purr, and Dante felt claws slide down his spine. He’d thought he’d put Nero right where he wanted him, but maybe the opposite was true. He shifted his hips and felt Nero’s breath hitch.

“Did I hurt y-” Dante began, but Nero shook his head abruptly.

“No, and you don’t have to be so careful, either. Believe me, if you’d actually hurt me, you’d be the first to know,” Nero growled, in a way that promised instant retaliation. His human hand tangled in Dante’s hair and tugged roughly.

Dante snorted. “Threatening me in my own bed now, punk?” He dragged his teeth over Nero’s larynx, just to make him swallow. Nero fidgeted under him, gasping when Dante rocked his hips. Dante ran his hands over Nero’s lean frame, tracing the older, almost imperceptible scars. His fingers slid under the waistband of Nero’s sweatpants, stopping when Nero froze.

“Do you want these off?” He asked, and, when Nero hesitated, said “We don’t have to.” Nero blushed, even in the room’s dim light. He worried at his bottom lip instead of responding, and Dante returned to his previous pattern of warm, open-mouthed kisses without another word. Nero relaxed again a moment later, both hands sliding down Dante’s back and pulling him closer.

It was another fifteen minutes before Nero warmed up enough to allow Dante to really touch him. His arousal was obvious, but so was his apprehension. He flinched every time Dante’s hands strayed low, but his eyes were dark with desire and his breathing had grown ragged. Dante kissed Nero’s throat and let him grind against his body. He pressed his face into the crook of Nero’s shoulder and took a deep breath, his demonic side abruptly surfacing to insist that Nero smelled utterly delicious, like blood and gunpowder. Nero felt the ripple of power before Dante could stifle it, clenching a fist into Dante’s hair to pull him back and look at him. Dante allowed it, keeping his energy contained, watching Nero placidly.

“The fuck was that? If you fucking trigger on me I swear-”

“I won’t,” Dante assured him. Then added, “Unless you ask me to-”

“Not fucking likely,” Nero snarled, indignant, and Dante thought that maybe he was protesting a bit too much. He didn’t say so, though, because he wanted to live. Instead, he rolled his hips down onto Nero, gratified when Nero pressed back up against him with an equal amount of force.

“Well then, if you’re sure,” he teased softly, kissing along Nero’s jawline.

“I’m sure,” Nero snapped. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Dante hummed thoughtfully, continuing to nuzzle. “It’s just… you smell good. Really good.”

“Yeah, I shower daily, I know that must be a weird concept for you but-”

“You smell slick,” Dante recognized the scent as he said it, and Nero froze, colour blotching his cheeks. He pulled away from Dante abruptly, and Dante sat back to give him some space. Nero looked as though he knew exactly what Dante meant, and was horrified about it. Dante waited a moment, then let his hands slide to Nero’s hips. “Can I take off your pants?”

Nero gave him a look that was a mix of lust and fear and mortification, then yanked down his sweatpants himself. Dante helped tug them off and tossed them onto the floor. Nero wasn’t wearing underwear of any sort, and he sat up, hugging his knees to his chest and glaring at Dante before shuffling further away.

“Nero,” Dante said, and waited for a response.

“What?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re here by choice, right?” Dante began, and watched as Nero’s face shuttered. “If you’re not comfortable, you should say so.”

“I’m fine,” Nero snapped, voice laced with irritation.

“You are as far away from me as you can get and still be on the same bed.”

Nero looked away and said nothing.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here, with me, no matter what. You don’t have to have sex with me because I hit on you, or because you feel like you owe me, or for any other reason. If you want to just sleep in this bed, with me, that’s fine.” Dante grinned at Nero. “If you want to make out with me for hours, and nothing else, that’s fine too.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you,” Nero drawled, anger and something else in his voice. “Why the speech?”

“Because you’re acting really fucking weird. And when I took off your pants you looked like you were going to hyperventilate.”

“I just…” Nero stopped, flustered. “It’s been a while, okay? Don’t overthink it. You hit on me for ages and when I hit back you’re suddenly concerned for my virtue or something.”

“Okay…” Dante watched Nero breathe, figuring it would be less threatening than looking at his face. “Have you had sex with a man before?”

“Yeah,” Nero answered, but he didn’t sound happy about it. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking distressed. “I want you, okay? Fuck you for making me say it. And the other stuff… is none of your business. I’m here in your bed, aren’t I? Are you going to fuck me, or what?”

Dante swallowed his first response of, how can I fuck you if you’re way over there, because Nero seemed even less able to take a joke than usual. Instead he held out a hand, and when Nero took it, he pulled him back into his arms. “Okay,” he said, and kissed Nero’s throat. “I’ll give it to ya, if you’re absolutely sure.”

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll give it to you,” Nero growled, and Dante laughed.

“Maybe next time,” he offered, breathing in Nero’s scent. He slid his hands under Nero’s hips, settling between his parted thighs. He ignored the jutting erection in front of him and instead squeezed Nero’s ass, pleased to hear him groan. He slipped a finger underneath him, planning to get out the lube and open Nero up nice and slow, and found him sopping wet already. Nero flinched, violently, and Dante suddenly realized what it must have been like, growing up part-demon in a place like Fortuna.

“Someone give you a hard time about this?”

“What do you think, Dante?” Nero spat, still flushed. “What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just the demon blood. A quirk of physiology.”

“Do you get slick?”

“No,” Dante started, and when he saw Nero’s expression, lied. “Not usually.”

“You don’t take it up the ass then?”

Dante shrugged, ignoring Nero’s tone. “Sometimes.”

“It’s like I’m fucking cursed,” Nero muttered, more to himself than to Dante.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Dante repeated. “You just grew up in a puritanical cult.”

“This isn’t normal.”

“Not for humans, no.”

“Not for demons either, it seems like.”

Dante shrugged again. “Who knows?”

“You don’t seem weird about it.”

“Why would I be?”

Nero shook his head, looking so miserably uncomfortable that Dante gathered him back into his arms before he could stop himself. He reached to touch Nero again, sliding his hand between his legs. Then he licked the slick off his fingers and made sure Nero watched him do it.

“Dante don’t, that’s gross.”

“It isn’t, at all. Come here.” Dante sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then dragged Nero bodily over his lap, leaving him face down and ass up. He reached around Nero, making a few adjustments so they’d both be comfortable, smirking when Nero hissed at the touch. He ran his hand over Nero’s ass and down each thigh, admiring his form, still kind of amazed that he’d basically bent Nero over his knee and Nero had just _let_ him.

“Are you… planning on spanking me, or something?” Nero sounded incredulous.

Dante paused, pretending to think it over, then said, “Do you want me to?”

There was an even longer pause, and then Nero answered. “… No.” His ears burned red.

“You took your time thinking about that. You sure?”

“Fuck off.”

In response, Dante slapped him hard on the ass, just to hear him yell. Nero jumped and swore, digging a retaliatory elbow into Dante’s ribs. Dante stroked down his spine to soothe him, waiting until Nero relaxed again before giving his ass another squeeze. He pushed a finger into him slowly, making sure Nero had time to adjust. Nero made a soft, surprised sound that made Dante want to spend the rest of the evening kissing him breathless.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“Relax more.”

“If you’re that concerned about it, we’re switching positions,” Nero snapped.

“Hmmm… maybe later,” Dante said. He reached over Nero and opened up the drawer of the nightstand, fishing out a bottle of lube. He flicked the top off with his thumb and poured a small amount directly between Nero’s ass cheeks.

“Why on earth would you do that? I’m already-” Nero bit back the words, but Dante knew what he meant.

“You think you’re wet enough?”

Nero nodded, face burning.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked to use _less_ lube,” Dante mused.

“That wasn’t what I meant-” Nero started.

“I know,” Dante responded, resisting the urge to tease Nero further. He slipped another finger into him, less gently this time. Nero startled again, hips jostling forward. Instead of trying to settle him, Dante pushed his fingers further inside Nero, reaching for his prostate. He braced his other arm across Nero’s back, holding him in place. Nero resisted the pressure, and keened beautifully when Dante found the right spot. Nero convulsed and tried to scramble away from the overwhelming sensation, his breathing as erratic as his flickering devilbringer.

“Stay put and enjoy this,” Dante suggested, and nailed him with his fingers again. Nero stifled a shriek into the blankets and rolled his hips down onto Dante.

“Do you like that?” Dante asked. He curled his fingers and Nero moaned.

“Yes,” Nero gasped, sounding as though he hadn’t planned to admit that and couldn’t believe he’d said anything. He squirmed against Dante, pushing back against his fingers, panting and trembling. Dante spent a few minutes just touching Nero, spreading him open. He added another finger and Nero jerked across him.

“I like how wet you are. So slick. Nice and tight, and soaking wet.”

“Dante,” Nero panted, rocking against him. He rutted into Dante’s lap, pressing down, trying to get more contact. His slick and precum dripped onto Dante’s thighs.

“I like that you stayed here, where I put you. That you let me touch you like this, open you up. I can’t wait to put my cock in you. I’ll make you feel so good. Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Nero mumbled, shakily. His hands were fisted in the sheets in front of him, talons slicing into the fabric. His breathing was completely out of control, his erection throbbing against Dante’s thigh.

“You’re such a good boy, Nero,” Dante purred, approvingly, glancing at Nero to see his reaction. Nero made a gasping, sobbing noise and came hard, hips jerking. He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds he was making. Dante kept fingering him through his orgasm, hitting his prostate again to wring one final moan out of Nero, stopping only when the sounds Nero made became pained. He carded his other hand through Nero’s hair, and Nero lifted his head to allow it, leaning into the caress almost unconsciously. After a minute, Dante pulled his fingers free from where Nero had clenched around them. He wiped his hand on the sheets and then rubbed the spasms out of Nero’s legs. Nero wouldn’t look at him, but that wasn’t unexpected.

“What do you want me to do? Or, what do you want to do?” He asked softly, leaning forward and inhaling the scent of Nero’s skin. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Nero barked a laugh at that, and Dante worried that maybe the offer was too generous, especially since Nero, like any devil, had a bit of a sadistic streak. On the other hand, given the environment Nero had been raised in, he probably wouldn’t be able to make himself ask for what he wanted, even if he knew what that was. Dante continued kneading Nero’s legs and back until he stopped trembling. Eventually, Nero pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and sat up. He allowed Dante to pull him further down the bed, so that he was stretched out on his back.

“You’re so gentle,” Nero mused, and Dante was trying to find an appropriate response to _that_ comment because he hadn’t actually been that easy on Nero, had really only given him the basic amount of consideration due anyone, when Nero followed up with, “So this is how senior citizens have sex.”

“Fuck you,” Dante snarled. “I was worried about your injuries. But since your mouth is obviously working fine-”

“In your dreams.” Nero slung his arms around Dante’s neck and dragged him down on top of him. He surrendered immediately to Dante’s kiss, opening his mouth to him, asking to be devoured. Dante just barely kept himself from biting Nero, afraid that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. His demonic side loved that idea, reminding Dante of how the Blitz had ripped into Nero, painting the ground under him with blood, the way his ribs had splintered under heavy claws and-

“I can feel you getting weird,” Nero interrupted, and Dante pressed his face into Nero’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” Nero said, in a way that made it seem like it was the only thing he wasn’t worried about.

Dante kissed his throat and said, “I need to fuck you.”

Nero shivered under him, but his tone was indignant. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to get you to do for the past hour.”

Dante took another deep breath, making sure he was settled. He grabbed the firmest pillow and handed it to Nero. “Put that under your hips.”

“I’ll get on my knees.”

“No.”

“What happened to, ‘I’ll do anything you want’?”

Dante shrugged. “Changed my mind.”

Nero snorted, but did as he was told. Dante continued to explore Nero’s body, using his lips and tongue to map the scarred chest beneath him. He could see, just barely, where Agnus had split Nero’s sternum, months ago. In a little more time maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell at all. He doubted that Nero could see it now. Dante ran his tongue between Nero’s pecs and felt him sigh as much as he heard it. Nero yelped the first time Dante’s teeth grazed a nipple but didn’t protest. He tensed when Dante kissed his taut belly, clutching the sheets so roughly Dante was sure Nero’s talons went through the fabric. Dante planted one final kiss just below Nero’s navel, delighted by the shudder that went through him. He shuffled forward to reach Nero’s mouth for another kiss, then backed off and took a moment to take off his boxers. He pressed his naked erection hard against Nero’s thigh, smearing precum into the slick already there, and felt Nero jump.

“Dante, I-” Nero gulped, and then cut himself off abruptly. He smelled aroused, and afraid, and that made Dante want him even more. He pulled Nero to him so that they were skin to skin, feeling Nero start to shake as he pushed his knees apart. Nero wrapped his legs around him without prompting, and for a few long minutes they got distracted, rocking against each other. Nero was soaking wet, leaking slick and precum, and Dante could tell most of his submissiveness was due to fear, Nero’s demonic side trying to protect its more fragile human heart. He kissed Nero again, and Nero yielded immediately, and Dante remembered every time he’d pinned Nero down in a fight and Nero had submitted rather than struggle.

He decided that there might be a few more people in Fortuna who needed to die. Or, at least, to live in fear for the rest of their short, miserable lives.

“I can feel you thinking again. Stop being so fucking weird.”

Dante pressed a chaste kiss to Nero’s cheek just to see him frown in confusion and irritation. He retrieved the bottle of lube from where it was twisted into the sheets and slicked his cock. Nero watched him do it, tension radiating off him in waves. Dante could feel it in the way Nero was wrapped around him.

“If you tell me to stop, I will,” he offered, as reassurance, but Nero rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up.”

Dante pushed into him, realizing at once that Nero had tensed up again, his body clenching tightly around him. Nero panted like an animal in pain, his human hand clenched into Dante’s hair and his devilbringer shredding the sheets. He keened when Dante slid deeper, gulping for air, and Dante stopped moving for what seemed like a minute, waiting. His demon side thought Nero looked beautiful like this, spread open and hurting, but Dante thought Nero looked beautiful anyway, and pushed his darker thoughts aside.

“You good?” He asked, knowing Nero wasn’t.

“I’m fine,” Nero snapped, proving he was still coherent enough to talk. “Stop asking.”

“Take a deep breath. I’ll go slow.”

“I’m fine,” Nero repeated. He pulled Dante’s hair, hard. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

“Okay,” said Dante, and offered Nero a kiss on the mouth that seemed to startle him. He reached around to catch Nero behind each knee, bending him nearly in two. Nero gasped for breath as Dante bottomed out inside of him, struggling for just a moment but unable to get much leverage to move in this position. He pulled Dante closer to him by the hair and kissed him hard, each breath edging closer to a sob.

Dante hushed him, kissed him quiet, then rocked into Nero, slow but relentless. Nero was hot, and tight, and beautiful, and Dante realized just how much he’d wanted this, wanted Nero like this. He almost couldn’t believe that it was happening. Nero moaned brokenly, unable to catch his breath. His hands scrabbled over Dante’s shoulders, his talons catching and drawing blood. He whimpered as Dante found a rhythm, still sensitive from his first orgasm.

“You look so good like this, Nero,” Dante murmured, unable to keep quiet himself. “So beautiful, stretched open, taking it so well.”

Nero tossed his head and keened in response, and if anything, got even wetter, slick mixing with lube and coating his ass and thighs. His cock dripped precum against his belly. Dante held himself over Nero, letting him unfurl a bit, keeping the rhythm but giving Nero space to breathe, if only for a moment. He braced himself with one hand and reached for Nero’s cock.

“Fuck... oh fuck,” Nero blurted, moaning, bucking up into Dante’s palm so that Dante had to grab his hip to keep them connected. He steadied them both, then kept stroking Nero, wringing the filthiest sounds out of him. Nero thrashed, tossing his head, flushed across his cheeks and down over his chest. His cock wept over Dante’s hand, precum dripping over his knuckles. Dante kept his other hand firmly on Nero’s hip, holding him down as he fucked into him. He watched Nero intently, wanting to please him, wanting to make him feel good. Nero’s hair was damp with sweat, and his skin glistened with it. Dante watched him move, how Nero shoved at him to meet every thrust, and then fucked into his hand as often as he could, an uncoordinated search for pleasure.

“That’s it, Nero,” he encouraged, tightening his grip to hear Nero keen. “That’s beautiful. You look so good like this, I know you’re trying so hard to be good for me, aren’t you, Nero?” Dante whispered any amount of filth that came into his head, mixing it with the praise that seemed to undo Nero so completely. He thought about calling Nero a good boy again, because that had obviously done something for him, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. Nero sobbed under him, cumming hard. He covered his mouth with his hand but Dante pulled his hand away, wanting to hear.

“Dante,” Nero choked out again, panting, and Dante stroked him until he whimpered, his legs wrapped around Dante’s waist, completely wrecked. It was a good look on him, and Dante leaned down to tell him so, kissing his throat, almost gone himself.

“Gonna get on your belly for me?” he asked. Nero gave a shaky nod in response, and Dante pulled out long enough to flip him over. He thrust back in hard, and Nero bucked and screamed, oversensitive and overwrought. He pressed his face into the pillow, moaning as Dante set a brutal pace, fucking him deep and fast. Nero was so warm and slick and tight that Dante couldn’t stand it anymore. He came hard enough that he blacked out for a second, shaking with pleasure, hips jerking. He slid his arms under Nero and held him close, rocking into him, soaking Nero’s insides for what seemed like a whole minute where his cock just kept on throbbing.

“You’re gonna be a mess,” he murmured, affectionately, but Nero flinched a little at his words. Dante pressed a kiss to his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “Hey, come on, I didn’t say that to make fun.” He caressed Nero’s side, feeling completely sated, hoping that Nero was feeling good too. He wanted to stay put, lying on top on Nero, but knew it was only a matter of moments before he got an armored, demonic elbow in his ribs.

“If you fall asleep on me I’m gonna roll you off the bed,” Nero growled, and Dante smirked and took a deep, relaxed breath before lifting himself up. He pulled out gently, feeling Nero tense, and ran a comforting hand over him. Nero was soaked, leaking slick and semen. He pulled away from Dante and sat up with a grimace, wrapping his arms around his knees and looking like he wanted to hide. Dante decided to give him a minute.

“I’ll get a towel - be right back,” he said. He pulled on his boxers and left to wash himself off before Nero could say anything. When he came back Nero was half wrapped in one of the sheets, looking a little scared and a lot defensive, and Dante still couldn’t quite figure it out but knew that asking would be worse. He eased Nero onto his back and cleaned him up, taking his time. Nero put an arm across his eyes and refused to look at him.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, finally, startling Nero.

“What? No, I like-” Nero caught himself and glared to hide his embarrassment.

Dante felt merciful, because Nero _had_ just put out spectacularly, and prompted, “You looked worried,” instead of just teasing him.

“Maybe it’s just my face,” Nero snarled, implying that if Dante looked too long he was going to mess up _his_ face.

Dante snorted a laugh and pulled Nero into his arms. He felt Nero’s surprise at the affectionate gesture and indulged in a brief fantasy where he killed everyone in Fortuna with his bare hands.

“Your face is fine,” he declared, and felt Nero smirk against his chest. “Your ass is nice too. Not sure about your taste in music, but I think I can probably live with-” Nero wedged an elbow into his ribs and Dante yelped, laughing. They spent a moment, breathing together quietly, and Dante wondered how long Nero would allow it. He didn’t have long to wait. After about two minutes, Nero started to squirm and pull away.

“Are you done feeling sentimental yet?” Nero asked, shuffling out of Dante’s arms. He looked at his clothes on the floor and started to move towards them.

Dante scoffed at him, but couldn’t find an appropriate answer. He didn’t think Nero was touch averse naturally, just that he didn’t know how to allow it, or let himself enjoy it. He watched Nero dress, ignoring the dirty look sent his way, and realized all at once what was happening. Nero was getting ready to leave the bedroom before Dante kicked him out of it. The realization stunned him to silence, grabbing his heart in a fist and refusing to let go.

“Okay weirdo, what’s it this time? Your eyes are fucking red.” Nero pulled his t-shirt on over his head like he was putting on armour. He seemed to have regained most of his composure, only his mussed hair and a couple bruises evidence that he’d gotten his brains fucked out a few minutes ago. Even the remaining scratches from the Blitz had mostly disappeared.

Dante shook his head to clear it and managed to keep most of the growl out of his voice. “You don’t have to go.”

Nero cocked his head, puzzled. “You want another round?” He asked, with a bravado that Dante read as false but pretended, for Nero’s sake, that he hadn’t.

“Sure, if you’re offering, but what I meant was, you can sleep here.”

Nero gave him a long, strange look, as though he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Dante frowned and tried again.

“I want you to stay,” he said, hoping the direct approach would work. He knew Nero couldn’t take a hint. Nero wasn’t even looking at him anymore. “I mean it. I wouldn’t tease you about this.” He didn’t say, I wish you’d trust me, or, we’re taking a road-trip to Fortuna to burn it down and salt the earth there, because Nero would probably have mixed feelings about that. Like Stockholm syndrome, or something.

The power came back on in that instant, saving Dante from trying to offer further reassurances to dubious reception. Mermaid Rock began blaring from the jukebox downstairs and he climbed out of bed to go turn it off. Nero took a step back as he walked past, which was maybe more troubling than anything else he’d said or done in the months he’d lived with Dante. Dante took a deep breath and ignored it. He ambled downstairs as though nothing was wrong, his heart clenched in a vise-grip.

Nero followed him downstairs. “I’ve never heard this song before.”

“It’s a classic, but a lot of the records got destroyed.” Dante found the record cover and handed it over. He let the song play, watching Nero’s expression.

Nero read the track-list thoughtfully, listening. “It’s better than some of the stuff you have.”

“Glad you think so. Might be a dealbreaker if you didn’t.”

“Whatever,” Nero muttered, scratching his nose. The song ended and Dante turned off the jukebox.

“Come back to bed,” he said, and ignored the visible relief on Nero’s face. He didn’t wait to see if Nero would follow him, heading directly to his room. A moment later, Nero joined him there.

**Author's Note:**

> Dante’s cornball dirty talk is so fun to write, lol. Anyway, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought of it – feedback is always appreciated (I meant to post this last year as a counter-weight for HollowMan but then I never got the editing finished). This might get another chapter (ass-eating: the sequel) if I ever get motivated, but it’s complete for now. Is 2020 the year I get my 40 WIPs off my laptop and onto ao3? No, no it is not. I’m on twitter (nsfw) as semjaza_xx.


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